


Regrets

by Infinite_Fandoms



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27233323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinite_Fandoms/pseuds/Infinite_Fandoms
Summary: My take on Robin getting pissed and spilling all her feels to Cormoran**Minor swearing and some adult themes**
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 38
Kudos: 69





	1. The Drinking

“You’d think I’d be used to this by now,” Ilsa groans, her swollen belly distending out in front of her, as she waddles back from the loo.

“Sorry bout that,” she says, sitting down at the kitchen table where she’s left her very drunk friend.

“Is no prob’m”, Robin replies blearily.

“I know I complain a lot about all the trips to the toilet, but I’m so glad I’m finally pregnant,” she rubs her belly fondly. “I really regret all those miscarriages.”

“You know what I regret?” Robin asked loudly.

“What’s that?” Ilsa encouraged, taking a sip of her orange juice mocktail.

“You’d think my biggest regret would be being in that stairwell at University when…..you know,” she glazed over. “But it’s not, oddly enough. Now, I think it made me stronger. Braver.”

“No,” Robin went on somberly. “My biggest regret was getting back together with Matthew after I’d found out he’d cheated on me the first time. Everyone,” she hiccupped. “Everyone would have been sympathetic of my plight, and would have agreed with me leaving him. That was my out, that was it.”

She dropped her head into her hands, rubbing her temples.

“As many times as I’ve wanted to break up with him through the years, long before, and after that, pale in comparison to that moment. I was finally free,” she sniffed, tears blurring her vision.

“But I was getting a lot of pressure from my family, and from Matthew, to carry on. And I was so confused about my feelings surrounding Cormoran. But then he sacked me, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Without him….without that job….I didn’t know what to do. I was devastated. But then he showed up at my wedding and said he…he said he wanted me back and I was elated, but I mean, it was awfully late at that point. I couldn’t have been like ‘thank you all for coming, but fuck all of this’ and run away, could I have?. I had to survive the day at that point.”

She wiped a tear off her cheek with the sleeve of her jumper.

“Robs,” Ilsa treaded gently, grabbing her friend’s hand.

“No,” Robin said, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, stop it,” Ilsa chastised. “You’re my friend, I care about you. You can tell me anything you like.”

“In fact,” she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper so her sleeping husband upstairs couldn’t hear. “I know I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but Nick said when Corm and him went out, and wound up pissed in a pub the night of my last miscarriage, Corm told him how he fancies you, but doesn’t want to risk the friendship you two have, or the agency, if it winds up you’re not interested.”

Robin couldn’t believe her ears, her mind swirled with drunken incoherent thoughts.

“Did he really?” she inquired, disbelievingly.

“He did,” she let go of her friend’s hand and went back to drinking her orange juice out of a fancy champagne flute. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”


	2. The Waking

The pounding on his door jerked Strike awake. He was certainly not expecting visitors at this hour. Or any hour, really.

“STRIKE!” he hears Robin’s muffled voice bellow before fists bounded two more times on the frame.

As soon as he opened the door to her, he knew right away she was pissed.

“I was gonna do it, ya know?” Robin slurred, staggering into Strike’s flat, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glossy.

“Do what?” Strike yawned, closing the door behind her.

“Run away with you at my wedding,” she announced without the slightest hint of trepidation.

“You were gonna wot?” Strike asked astonished, his heart dropping into his stomach.

“I was! I was gonna do it,” Robin went on, animating the speech through rapid hand gestures. “When we were out on the steps, when we were hugging, my brain was screaming at me to run away. To run away with you. I’d hoped you’d say something like, I dunno, ‘come with me’. But I knew. I knew right then I would have done it. If you’d had said…something….anything, I’d have gone. Not that I’m trying to blame you for my mistakes….it’s just, blimey, I’m rambling.”

“And,” she added, despite her proclamation of rambling. “Prior to that I was yelling at that….that twat for deleting my messages from you. I was so mad. If I’d known….well….I thought…..I thought to myself _If I’d known Strike wanted me back, would I have married Matthew?_ And I know now that the truth is definitely not!!,” Robin paused briefly to draw a long breath.

“And then I tried to call you to tell you that I’ve made a huge mistake, and to tell you…….but then some woman picked up and I panicked and hung up. I was telling Ilsa,” she went on in rapid succession, confusing Strike with her rapid change of topics. “…I was tellin’ her that I didn’t know what to do, without you…without the job… I was, I was scared, and confused, and hurt.”

“I’m sorry!” she raised her voice again, arms flailing wildly. “I should never have married that tosser. I shouldn’t have. I should have told you….”

But before she could continue Strike interrupted. “Do you know what I regret, Ellacott?” he asked, fully awake now. “I regret you telling me this while you’re pissed out of your head.”

Robin looked taken aback but did not continue speaking.

“Fucking Christ,” Strike cursed under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Let’s get you to bed, and we’ll talk about this in the mornin’.”

Strike led her unsteadily to his bed, her eyes glassy and suddenly tired.

She flopped down without protest, and seemingly fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Strike gently took off her shoes and dropped them next to the bedside cabinet, then pulled the blanket over her; tucking it under her chin.

He grabbed for the afghan hanging haphazardly over his desk chair and made for the sofa.

Strike stretched out as much as he could, his forearms tucked under his head, staring up at the ceiling.

He knew, unequivocally, that he would not sleep a wink this night.


	3. The Coffee

Robin woke up in an unfamiliar place. Her head pounding, and a sense of dread falling upon her conscience brain.

She sat up in a bed that wasn’t hers and noticed a note on the bedside cabinet next to a glass of water and two paracetamol tablets.

**“Went for coffees.**

**Be right back.**

**Do NOT leave!**

**\- Strike”**

_Oh no_ , she thought. Robin scrambled out of bed to the toilet, still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

She used the restroom, washed and dried her hands, ran her fingers quickly through her messy hair, brushed her teeth with her forefinger, and wiped her face of the smeared mascara.

Returning to the bedroom, she downed the water and the tablets Strike had left for her, and was slipping her shoes back on, trying to make a hasty exit, when Strike backed into the door with a foam trey holding two coffees.

_Damn._

“Mornin’,” he said, handing her a coffee; causing her to abandon her shoes.

“Oh, um, good morning,” she replied, and sipped her coffee slowly; mostly to avoid talking to Strike about whatever she did last night that she wound up in his bed this morning.

“Soooo,” Strike started. “How are you feeling?”

“Bit shite.”

“Yeah, I imagine so,” he took a sip of his coffee, his eyes alight with amusement, staring at her over the rim of the polystyrene cup.

“Oh, God,” Robin caved; putting her coffee down on the bedside cabinet next to the empty glass of water. “What did I do last night? I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Strike inquired, placing his coffee cup next to hers, then wheeled his desk chair over so that he could be eye-level with her.

“Sorry for whatever I did that has you looking at me like that,” Robin concluded, her cheeks rising in colour.

“Like what?” he asked with a small chuckle.

“Like you’re in on some kind of joke that I’m not a part of.”

“There’s no joke, Ellacott, it’s okay.”

“Did we?” she asked, letting the half-question linger.

“No,” Strike told her gently.

“Oh, thank God, I’d hate for our first time….” she stopped, her face turning scarlet. “Never mind,” she stammered, quickly trying to move the conversation forward. “I’m going to stop talking now, and let you fill me in. What happened?”

“Well,” Strike started. “Innocent little me was fast asleep in bed, when at 2:18 am a pounding came to my door. I opened it up and there you were, smashed out of your head,” he smiled.

“Oh, God,” Robin wailed again, dropping her head into her hands.

“Then what?” she asked after a silent minute went by, peeking out between her splayed fingers.

“Then you told me all sorts of things. Very rapidly.”

“Like?” Robin prodded, dreading the answer.

“Like you regret marrying ‘that tosser’, as you put it.”

Robin lifted her head, fragments of memories returning to her.

“Oh, Cormoran, oh no,” Robin said, now remembering bits and pieces of what she’d said to him. “I’m so sorry to put all that on you like that.”

“No, no,” he insisted, raising a hand to her. “It’s okay. Clearly it was on your mind.”

“Do you want to continue talking about it, or?” He asked, hoping she’d want to finally let them address the elephant in the room.

The big, pining, caring, loving elephant.


	4. The Confession

Robin’s heart was pounding hard in her chest. Her headache receding, and her bravado bubbling.

I mean they’re here now, already on the precipice, it’s too late not to jump now. Consequences be damned.

Robin swallowed hard, her mouth feeling dry.

“I suppose,” she started. “I suppose we might as well, clear up a couple of things.”

“I suppose we should,” he agreed.

They both stared at each other in silence, unsure who should talk first.

“I,” Robin finally broke the silence. “I am sorry for this conversation to be happening because of my drunkenness. I apologize.”

“It’s nothing to apologize about, I’m glad we can talk. We agreed to this ‘talking thing’, right?”

“Yes, yes, you’re right.”

“Now back to this ‘I regret my marriage’ business,” he steered gently.

With that slightest provocation Robin launched into it. “I do. Or I did. It’s all water under the bridge now. Still, I shouldn’t have gone through with it. With my whole heart, I regret not leaving when I found out Matt had deleted your messages. Honestly, I regret getting back together with him in the first place after I’d found out that he’d cheated on me with Sarah the first time. Unfortunately, he is a manipulator and has a way of getting people to do what he wants.”

Robin tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes finding their way to the floor, her brazen now deflating like her poor little donkey balloon.

“Anyway,” she went on, feeling more self-conscious. “I was hurt from losing this job that I love, and I was confused about my feelings for…well, for you. I was confused, and pressured, and well, I did what I did because I didn’t know what else to do. But then you showed up, offering me my life back. If I had known…” she shakes her head.

“But I did what I did, and that is on me. Afterwards, after the wedding, there was this huge fight between our families. My brother Martin had punched Matt on the nose. He was bleeding, and our families were screaming at each other, and he begged me to go to ‘sort things out’ away from all the chaos. To get away from our families, and from the press that was all over us after the ripper case, but you know that.,” she lifted her head up to look at him again.

His eyes were soft, and his fingers steepled below his chin, just listening. Not giving anything away.

“So we left,” she continued. “I was thinking about you the entire flight and wondering to myself If I was in….well, never mind, but Matthew slept out on the sofa the whole time we were there, and we had a god awful time. He kept checking my phone, and we’d go from rowing to not speaking, like a pendulum of misery. After a week I couldn’t take not speaking to you anymore, I had to talk to you. To hear your voice, I don’t know. So I called, but then some woman picked up the phone, that I’m assuming now was Lorelei, and I was so hurt that you had taken someone to bed so quickly. I figured the hug, and the feelings, had meant little, if not nothing, to you. That I’d misinterpreted all of it. That I misconstrued my confused feelings for you, and you didn’t feel the same. I felt like I’d been slapped. I cried and cried,” admitted Robin, her eyes getting a little misty now, as she re-tells her tale.

“Regardless of all that,” she went on, determined not to stop the train now that it was rolling. “I still knew I didn’t want to be with Matthew, even if it meant being alone. I decided. I was ready to tell him that I wanted to just go home early and make the announcement of our annulment to our families and be done with it. But as soon as I went to tell him, he was sick from scratching himself on coral. Remember? I told you about that in hospital? When Jack…..” she paused to wipe a tear away.

“So he was really sick, and hallucinating, and I don’t know, I fell into carer mode. I didn’t even think about what that would mean in Matt’s mind. He thought I was going to stay. When he got better he guilted me more and more about ‘throwing away all these years’ and all I could think about was you, tits up with your tart, and my parent’s and all the money they’ve spent, and so I agreed to a “trial”. To give it a try. I felt like a failure for not pulling myself free of him. I kept waiting for the right moment, the right excuse to finally be allowed to leave him without grief from everyone. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been trapped. Trapped by his lies, by his manipulations, by his scratch that made him sick, by all of it. When I finally did get back, you were so cold and distant towards me. Giving me easy cases, babying me and not letting me out at night, then we just didn’t work cases together anymore at all until Chiswell, really. I felt like you didn’t even want to look at me,” Robin concluded, swallowing the lump in her throat, and quickly wiped away the twin tear trails on her cheeks.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Strike started, with a slight croak to his voice that she’d only ever heard once before.

“Would it be okay with you if I tell you my side of things as well?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“Yes, please”

“Essentially, I had been staying in a Travelodge since I got back to London after your wedding. It was two days since I’d gotten home and the press was mad, so I’d holed up. It was two days I was sitting there, alone, waiting to hear from you. I kept checking my phone, god only knows how many times. So much so that I needed to go out and buy another recharging lead because I’d forgotten mine at my flat and my phone was dying.”

“I started drinking,” he continued, rubbing a massive hand over his stubble. “Because…well, I was bored, and missing you. I kept imagining you up in Masham deciding whether to pursue a divorce or an annulment, arranging the sale of your flat, dealing with your family’s upset. I wanted to hear your voice so badly. So I dialed directory and called up to your parent’s house. Your dad answered. He told me you’d been gone on your honeymoon, and I was so disappointed, and pissed. So I kept on drinking. A few days after that I accepted a dinner invitation from Eric Wardle and his wife, April, but it was a set up. They introduced me to this girl “Coco”, and you can guess how “kind and compassionate” she was. Hint: it wasn’t very. But I was drunk and sad and confused, and she was there, so….” He paused.

“Look,” he started again, somewhat defensively. “You have to look at it from my perspective. We had that heartfelt hug on the stairs, you all but told me you were leaving Matthew. Then I don’t hear from you for days. When I do call, your Dad says you’re off on your honeymoon, then I don’t hear from you for a fortnight. And when you did come back, you still had your wedding ring on, and never talked about it. You were just as cold and distant towards me, as I was towards you. Just cool professionalism, that’s what we fell in to. What was I supposed to think?”

“And,” he sighed, starting again more softly. “If I’d had known my stupid drunken one-night stand would have caused this much turmoil, I’d never have done it. It wasn’t Lorelei, I didn’t meet her for a good two – two and a half months after you came back. Trust me, I was just as confused and upset as I’m sure you were.”

“But,” Strike continued, collecting Robin’s hands in his. “You didn’t misinterpret anything. That hug on the stairs meant just as much to me, as it did to you.”


	5. The Insecurity

“Did it?” Robin asked with a little sniffle. “I’ve always been a little insecure around you, honestly. I never thought…it’s just, I’ve really only ever been with Matthew, while you’ve had your share of drop-dead-gorgeous women. I mean, look at me. I look like someone’s primary school teacher. I’m not a beautiful supermodel by a long shot.”

“You’re insecure?” asked Strike, letting go of Robin’s hands. “Look at me”, he gestures towards his chest. “I’m a decade older than you. I’m overweight and grumpy, and live off of cigarettes and takeaway. I don’t even have a whole body,” he then gestures to his prosthetic right leg. “Christ! Just look at my hair!”

“Plus,” he went on, unabashed, now that all the cards were on the table. “You are beautiful, as far as I’m concerned. Everyone loves you, Robin. They can’t help themselves. You’re kind, compassionate, brilliant, brave, tenacious, resilient, empathetic. You can have anyone you want.”

“Can I though?”

“I’d bet my bloody good leg on it,” he concluded.

“But I want you,” she looked him dead in the eye.

They stared at each other in silence. Their heartbeats both thudding wildly in their chests.

“Why would you want that?” Strike asked after the silence stretched on too long for comfort. “I’m rubbish! I’m surly, and forget important things like birthdays. I work too much, and”

But Robin cut him off with a stern “No.”

“Don’t you dare,” she continued, in a voice Strike had never heard her use in his direction before. “You’re not rubbish. On the contrary,” She took a stilling breath and began again more Robin-like. “You don’t understand, Cormoran. You don’t understand what it’s like being a woman out there in this man’s world. You are the furthest thing away from rubbish. You’re intelligent beyond measure. You’re strong, protective, kind, and not afraid to stand up for what you believe in. You don’t let people push you around. You’re hard working and honest. You are respectful, and care greatly about your loved ones. You’d do anything for them, and you know it. You’re the mold in which all men should be created. You don’t get it. You never will, but that’s okay, because I’m here to tell you; you’re not rubbish, Cormoran Blue Strike, you’re bloody brilliant.”

They sat in silence for a while, their heart rates coming to a rest. Strike sat trying to regain control over his emotions. Outside of Joan telling him she’s proud of him, no one’s ever really told him anything positive about himself before.

“And, if I may,” Robin went on, in barely a whisper. “I think your experiences with women are coloured. You believe women only want you when you can be useful to them, and then they just want to throw you away when you’re not. I’m not saying women aren’t like that. Obviously, some are. Your Mum used you to try to get at Rokeby, Charlotte used you for tormenting her family. I don’t…..I’m not trying to use you for anything. I care for you greatly. I accept and admire you exactly as you are. I think…..I think if you gave us a chance, I could show you. I could show you what a quiet love is like. No drama, no hitting, no using and abusing, no constant rowing. It doesn’t always have to be shite.”

“Well you are the one trained in psychology,” Strike tried to joke it off.

They both lapped into silence again.

“Ya know,” Strike broke the silence first this time. “I think the world of you, Robin. Everything you’ve done for me. For my family. For the agency. I’m glad you’re here. But I’m worried. I don’t want to mess things up between us. You’re a great business partner and the best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t want to bollocks it all up.”

“I completely understand,” Robin said, gathering his right hand in both her hands. “I’m afraid too. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, or lose this job. I love it. I absolutely love it. But I also don’t want to not try, if the feelings are mutual, which it seems they are. Don’t you want to at least give it a go? We can take things really slowly. See where they lead.”

After a few seconds hesitation Strike squeezed her hand.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, I think we can give it a go.”


End file.
